Water Foul
by e-dog
Summary: Taking a seat, Greg couldn’t help but notice the elfish glow of Sara’s eyes. [Post Episode “Secrets and Flies”]


Disclaimer: Not mine. CSI and it's characters are property of CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer. Just borrowing.

Category: Humor/General

Summary: Taking a seat, Greg couldn't help but notice the elfish glow of Sara's eyes. Post Episode "Secrets and Flies"

**Water Foul**

by e-dog

Greg strolled into the breakroom, his trademark simper adorning his features as he playfully bumped into Sara at the coffee maker. She gave him a mock hurt expression in return, yet broke into a grin almost immediately. The two of them stood side by side, mixing and stirring their respective coffees until the dark liquid was just the way they liked it.

Taking a seat, Greg couldn't help but notice the elfish glow of Sara's eyes. Her far off gaze, that smirk on her face. Hold on. Was she plotting something? No way. Not Sara Sidle. He tried very hard not to dwell on it any longer, but being "the king of pranks", he recognized that look anywhere. It was obvious Sara was planning something highly devilish. He had to know what it was.

He leaned forward, "Are you going to tell me or do I have to torture you?"

"Hmm?" Sara mumbled, finally snapping out of her daydreaming.

Greg's eyes squinted merrily, "Look, I know all about that look in your eyes. You're planning something. I want in. Whatever it is, I want in."

Sara laughed into her coffee mug and shook her head, "No way, Greggo. Not in a million years. She'd kill me." Sara's expression immediately dropped, after uttering that last phrase.

"So, it's Catherine?" Greg inquired, immediately catching her slip up. "Oh, man...she's long overdue for a prank!"

Sara squirmed in her seat, that smile a permanent fixture on her face. She took a deep breath, then confessed, "It's not really a good prank. I've never been good at these kinds of things."

"Do I have to get down on my knees and beg here?" Greg pleaded. When she continued to ignore him, he dropped to the floor, crawled over to her and whimpered pathetically. "Pwease let me help you! Ever since I left the lab, my creative juices have come to a standstill!"

"Greg. . ."

"I need this, Sara. I need this just as much as you want to do it," Greg begged mercilessly. Her sudden relaxed posture told him he had won. He rose to his feet and pulled up a chair right next to her. He watched her smile again and he just knew this was going to be good. Every fiber in his being was antsy with anticipation. "Okay, what's the prank?"

Sara sighed, then leaned into his ear. She whispered ever so softly her scheme. When she was done, she sat back and waited on his reaction. Greg merely sat there, motionless. Great, he thought it was stupid. She knew it wasn't worth sharing, let alone trying. Before she could object, he smiled so wide his face must've hurt from stretching the muscles so taut. He turned to her and proposed, "That's good, but why don't we take it a step further?"

Sara quirked an eyebrow as he leaned in and whispered his idea in her ear. She tightened her lips, trying to keep herself from smiling as she listened. After he was through, she turned to him and proclaimed, "That's perfect."

---------------------------

Catherine stood in her office doorway, arms crossed tightly. Wearing the most peeved expression she could muster, she was completely floored as her eyes glanced around the entire space. This had gone too far! Nick popped up behind her, then whistled in amazement. She just huffed and finally stepped inside to grab her purse. Nick remained in the doorway and remarked highly amused, "Ducks. I didn't know that was your favorite animal."

"It's not," Catherine griped, throwing her belongings together. She knocked one of the wooden ducks off the desk in frustration as she explained, "I now share this desk with a day shift supervisor who obviously _loves_ them."

"Yeah, but this is. . .," Nick faltered, as he began to count just how many there were.

"Ridiculous? Yeah, I know," Catherine rolled her eyes, waving an arm over her desk. "I mean, I don't even know where _these_ came from. I counted fifteen at the beginning of shift."

Nick whistled again, his eyes scanning every shelf, the floor and the desk. He concluded, "Well, there's gotta be at least forty here now. That's a lot of duck."

Catherine sneered in his direction.

Nick responded with a very cheeky, "Quack, quack."

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Catherine opened the front door of her home. She immediately spied her mother and daughter on the couch, curled up and watching television. Or rather, the television was watching them. They were both sleeping soundly and she didn't have the heart to wake them. She stealthily walked past them and into the kitchen. There she found a wrapped dinner plate waiting for her. Her family was always looking out for her.

"Mom?"

Catherine turned to find a sleepy Lindsey stumbling slightly into the kitchen. She instantly went over to steady her daughter, kissed her forehead and apologized, "Sorry, if I woke you, sweetie."

"It's okay. I was trying to stay awake for you," Lindsey shrugged. "I wanted to tell you that Sara stopped by."

"Sara?" Catherine immediately questioned. "You mean, the Sara I work with?"

"Isn't she the only Sara you know?" Lindsey replied smartly. Usually, Lindsey would've been chastised for her tone of voice, but Catherine was still too amazed her co-worker knew where she lived, let alone stopped by to visit. The young girl forced herself out of her mother's hold and began to raid the fridge, "Anyway, she had this guy with her and they said they were leaving you presents. Grandma told them to leave 'em upstairs."

"Okay," Catherine drew out her short reply, clearly baffled. Sara was here?

Catherine ventured up the stairs, her heart pounding with much more force than necessary. It was like she almost expected to find a dead body lying in her bed or something. She couldn't believe she was this nervous, but in reality she had every right to be. If Sara Sidle was finding the time to stop by her house to leave "presents", something was clearly not right. She first poked her head into the guest room, but that was the way she left it. No random boxes or wrapped gifts. She continued on down the hall, peering into each room finding nothing unusual. Finally, her bedroom was last. With a deep breath, she stepped in and still found nothing.

"What the hell?" Catherine muttered. She searched her entire room. Nothing in the closet or under the bed. She rolled her eyes. If this was her daughter's idea of a joke, it wasn't funny. There was nothing resembling a present anywhere up here.

First the ducks, then another rotten murder case, then the apparent appearance of Sara in her house? After a day like today, she just needed a nice long bath. She would wait until the next shift to confirm what, if anything, Sara might have left her. With that, she threw open her bathroom door and nearly had a stroke. She leaned against the doorframe to support herself, a gasp escaping as she viewed her transformed bathroom.

Ducks. There were ducks everywhere. Decals on the sink. Posters on the walls. Her tub had been filled with water and suds with at least fifty rubber duckies floating on top. There were even more yellow ducks resting on the toilet seat, on the window sill, on the floor. A beach towel with Donald Duck hanging on the towel bar. Duck embroidered wash cloths and duck shaped soap.

Catherine finally picked her jaw up off the ground, finally registering that this was the "gift" Sara had left her. She managed to release a pent up laugh to quell the anxiety she had felt initially, surprised at herself for not blowing a gasket at what her co-workers had done. She stepped further into the bathroom, actually admiring the handiwork until she stepped on a duck and heard it squeak obnoxiously loud, echoing off the walls. She glanced at her duck littered floor, that perturbed feeling resurfacing. With the utmost confidence, she mumbled, "Yeah. I'm going to _kill_ her."

---------------------------

Catherine walked into the breakroom finding the two culprits drinking coffee. They innocently glanced up at her trying to ignore the glare coming their way. They watched the blond make her way to the coffee machine, neither of them breaking eye contact until she turned around to make coffee. That was when the teasing began.

"Hey Greg," Sara began, that slow drawl of hers even more annoying than usual. "Why did the duck cross the road?"

Greg snickered, before shrugging, "I dunno, Sara. Why did the duck cross the road?"

"Because he was tied to the chicken!" Sara grinned, laughing her way through the punch line.

Catherine rolled her eyes, hoping that if she ignored them, they would shut-up. Fat chance.

Sara started up again, "So, a duck walks into a bar and asks the bartender. . ."

"Okay, that's it!" Catherine whirled around, glaring at the both of them. "One more duck joke and I'll. . ."

"You'll what?" Greg shrugged. "Quack us to death?"

Sara snickered. Catherine's eyes narrowed and a low growl escaped her lips.

"I think that's our cue to leave," Greg announced, jumping up out of his chair and fleeing the scene. Sara didn't have to be told twice as she was right on his heels. Catherine chased them out into the hall, catching their retreating forms turn the corner and out of her sight. She rolled her eyes, turned around and found Nick standing behind her. He held up a rubber duck and winked at her.

"Quack, quack."

The End


End file.
